


Sealed

by NosyFrenchie



Series: A Bond [1]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Blood Loss, F/M, Portable Ops Era, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-07-11 12:18:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7050661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NosyFrenchie/pseuds/NosyFrenchie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chupacabra, the feared child soldier, the terror of the infamous South American drug wars...</p><p>You had not obtained that title by prancing about and sparing your ennemies, you gained it through atrocious methods and means and yet... You fall easily when a certain FOX unit gets its hands on you.<br/>But this is all it takes for a legend to take you under his wing.</p><p>UNDER HEAVY REVISION</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pick me up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big Boss takes in a stray

“Snake!” Roy calls out to him and he looks up from Gene's cooling body to the limping soldier approaching. “You did it! You stopped the launch!” The wounded man smiles but Snake cannot bring himself to cheer now, especially after Gene's last words, so reminiscent of his dead mentor's and also…  
His gaze drifts back to the blood trail left behind by the teenager and leading right to the wooden area surrounding the missile silo. How far could you have went?  
“Hm.” 

“Snake?” Campbell repeats, eyeing himself the bloody footprints. They are small, too small to belong to one of the base's soldiers. No, they must belong to a teenager at best...Roy quickly catches on Snake's line of thoughts and is obviously against the idea of bringing the girl back and he makes his opinion known very explicitly, “We can't take her with us! This is Chupacabra! You don't know what that psychopathic maniac is capable of!”

“I do actually,” He says through thick cigar smoke. The kid cut down a tank on her own before going through Cunningham's torture and even managed to nick Gene a few times before he slashed her open in two. If this isn't a diamond in the rough...  
“This is why she's coming with us. She's got some potential, I will get her to join me.”  
“Are you insane?” Roy complains once more, “She could kill you in your sleep! Don't let yourself be fooled by her appearance, she may be a child but-”  
“Exactly, she's a child. She needs to learn and I'll be the one who will guide her.” He says in a final tone. Both the Boss and Gene pleaded him to find his calling and for now, taking an apprentice seemed like the best thing to do. However, it would only be a good thing if said student was still alive and not bleeding out while he stood there arguing with Campbell. “Stand down, Roy.”

It is with a tight-lipped smile and troubled eyes that Campbell nods, “Sorry, Snake.”  
Said man turns to the back exit of the silo, gun at the ready as he advances in the thick foliage. It doesn't take long to find you, badly wounded and bleeding all over the place you left a great trail behind. You spit out blood on the forest floor, your 'borrowed' assault riffle tumbling out of your clenched fist when clearly, one hand isn't enough to keep your insides in.  
Muffling a cry, you fall down to your knees, shoulders quaking with unmatched pain. You collapse against a tree, as you slide down, a trail of blood sticking to the bark. “Maldito sea!”

“Chupacabra.” He states as he walks up to you, “Not looking too good.”  
Startled, the girl reaches for the riffle he kicks out of the way rapidly before her terrified and manic gaze settles on him.

“El Serpiente...” Your eyes widen, you fully lean back against the tree trunk behind you whilst nursing the open abdomen wound. Your feet kick out to allow leverage and despite your pressing hard against the grave injury, you can feel your blood sipping through your tightly joined fingers, your insides churning against your palms.  
Being so desperately injured is not anything new for you but being in such a state in front of Big Boss, the man who brought down the Boss? Your whole form shivers in fear but you're almost sure he confuses your body's tremors for pain and cold.  
“I should have known...” You cough out, a small rivulet of blood trailing down the corner of your lower lip. Your head falls back against the bark and you look up at the green leaves softly swaying in the wind. Small rays of the dying sun filter through them but your attention is solely focused on the dark trail of smoke rising behind Big Boss.  
That damn psychotic Gene was telling the truth all along… He was really Snake. “Fucking bastard.”

“Get up.” He orders, gun still aimed at you despite the obvious fact that you are defeated.  
Your frame shakes as you chuckle, “Because you need me alive?” His one good eye narrows and you mirror his expression. “I'm not going with you, gringo. I'm going back for my soldiers.”

“Like this?” He snorts and the condescending tone sets you even more on edge. “You'll just get yourself killed. It's time for a reality check kid, you can't do anything for them now.”  
“Don't call me that.” You put your hand on the tree's bark behind you to support yourself, hand gripping at your abdomen. Anchoring your feet into the soil, you get up in one swift movement and your shoulders shake violently as white hot pain blinds you.  
You're on the verge of passing out, you realize, still refusing to cry out in front of the man. Your knees quack and fail to support you but Snake quickly approaches you and you find yourself in his arms. They slide under your back and knees and you are propped up in his hold, “Que estas-!”

“Keep that gut in, kid.” He says through gritted teeth, “We're not done here.”

…

“Hey, you!” You address the soldier who has been glued to Snake for the past hours. The older man turns to you, he is tense, nervous. 'As he should be.' You smirk and catching your expression, the man frowns, “What do you want, Chupacabra?”

“You must know what happened to my unit.” You say, sitting up despite the flaring pain the action causes. “Tell me.”  
“You mean your child soldiers,” He says, tone heavy and dripping with disdain. “They're dead, Gene had them killed before your capture.” He does adopt a sorrowful expression when your gaze wavers and he feels like a fucking asshole when you fall silent and turn away.  
“They didn't suffer.”

“I couldn't care less.” You choke out, “Snake will have to answer for this.”

“Snake didn't have a hand in your imprisonment or your squad's assassination. He didn't even know you were on the base before-”

“Gene ordered the death my soldiers.” You say, glaring daggers at the adult, “And el Serpiente took this kill away from me, he will pay. He owes me my men's lives and I plan to avenge them.” Your fists clench but the pull coming from your abdomen forces them into relaxing anew.  
“Listen, kid. Snake risked his life to get you out of this peninsula and you're going to reward him by questioning his motives and actions?” He suddenly gets up, annoyed beyond reason, “He decided to keep you as a disciple! You would threaten his life because he wants to make something of the fucking mess you are? Listen closely, kiddo, this isn't how it's going to work-”

“Roy?” You both freeze when you hear the voice and Campbell swings around, blocking your view. Snake is immeasurably rigid and silent, eerily so. He doesn't make any noise when he moves and of course, neither you or Roy could have heard him approaching with the argument going on.  
The cripple and the child confronting each other, what a picture you two must make.  
“I'll tell you once again, you leave her alone.”

…

“Family?” Snake asks from the seat on the side of the bed you had been forced into. He lights a cigar with a beat up lighter, taking in the toxic smoke as it feels his lungs.

“If you had a child, would you want him or her wandering around with the barest skills and gear to survive?” You ask, “Would you let your child pick up arms so young for no apparent reason?”

He stays silent before probing some more, “Gene told me your first memory was of a gun.” He leans on his elbows, “What happened to them?”  
“What happened to Null?” You ask, ignoring his previous question and you are fascinated by how quickly his expression changes from anger to indifference and then resolve.  
“I sent him away. Ultimately, he is alive.” He blows more toxic smoke into your face and your eyes narrow at the new information. “He is the one responsible for your unit's massacre?” At your nod, he sighs heavily but before you can say anything, he presses, “Now answer the damn question.”

With a sour expression, you answer, “I do not know, I cannot remember any parental figures. All I know is that I have always carried a weapon with me, from a drug trafficker's group in Colombia to the Sandinistas in Nicaragua." You laugh as you recall the building flames and collapsing drug plants. A wince escapes you when your guts make you painfully aware of the fact you cannot move around too much and your chuckles settle, "They were just as rotten as each other but the traffickers had more influence and money than the revolutionaries, plenty of paper trails to my next targets too.”

“All your life, you've been holding a gun, but you never knew why.”

“To survive. Unlike you, gringo, I do not have any great ideals or beliefs.” Despite your complaining body, you prop yourself on your elbow to directly meet his gaze, “Along my men, I only had one objective, survive. We didn't seek peace, war or misery, we wanted to survive, prove the world that what they had so carelessly thrown away was still there. I promised them all that, power, control.”

“But you failed.” He spits, a vicious hand coming to push you back on the bed. “You failed because you drew too much attention to yourself. You were the one Gene was after because you threw your kills and exploits around. You waved those in everyone's faces in hopes they would scare them but Gene got curious. You played your cards wrong, you could have as well been the one to murder your soldiers, it wouldn't have any difference if you had been the one to pull the trigger.” His finger digs in the joint of your shoulder when you start to struggle, “That is what you do, no? Pull the trigger, aimlessly, regardless of who is on the other end and for no purpose whatsoever.”

“Callaté!” You cry out but his grip is unrelenting and he just keeps on talking. “Stop it!”

“You're angry, aren't you? You're angry because you're too weak.” He jabs you in the ribs one last time, tuning out your pained cry. You convulse from the sudden flaring pain but still you are unable to move away from him.  
His tone is now surprisingly gentle, almost soothing. “You already have some decent basis, that much I can see. There aren't many kids down here who can speak and fight like you do.” He hums, leaning back and letting you go entirely. Your chest heaves in relief and you take in the pain's aftermath. “If you come with me, I could improve your skills. You could become better, stronger.”  
A small smile stretches on his ashen lips, “Become my apprentice,” He says, “I will teach you to be greater.”

And there, lungs greedily taking in air, eyes tearing up at your squad's demise and your obvious defeat, you seal your future and hand it over to the legend towering over your broken self.

“I accept.” And after an instant of hesitation, “Boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was revised. I feel ashamed of how many typos there were, I must have been too eager to post this to realize I needed to really look for defects.
> 
> Ah, anyways. I hope you liked it and thank you for sticking with this story for so long.


	2. First impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Boss drags his student around and some pondering ensues

You disembark the plane, tugging at the too-big military uniform's hem Snake provided you with. You watch your steps with squinted eyes, afraid of tripping and pulling your stitches. You roll back the sleeves to your elbows when they fall onto your forearm again and let the shirt hang loose instead of tugging it in inside your khaki pants. The only thing that fits you are the boots. They are right size. You had thought about cutting your hair again but Big Boss insisted on you tying it back instead, you reluctantly obliged him when he threw you a cold one-eyed glare.  
Out of your jungle, you don't seem like a wounded predator ready to lash out in defense. Here, you look like a young recruit with a bad injury healing painfully slowly.  
“Not so fierce anymore.” He says, heading towards the two men in suits. His steps are slow as to accommodate yours, not only does he have longer strides than you but your serious injury takes a toll on your speed. You are thankful for that... but he doesn't need to know.  
Mirth appears in your eyes and looking over the awaiting 'crowd' at the airport, you huff. “Your… superiors” -it is hard to imagine someone having power over Snake- “are exactly what I expected them to be.” You chuckle when he groans, “Suits, old and demanding. Lovely.”

“Hush.” He stifles a laugh when you near the bunch. Two walk up ahead, both giving you phony looks when they catch sight of you. The man with a scar cutting through the right side of his face is the first to speak.  
“Welcome back, Snake!” He has a heavy British accent, subtle manners and barely moves when he speaks except for the one or two bobs of his head. 'Major Zero, commander of the Snake Eater operation.' You muse but the man next to him doesn't have any particular traits Snake might have pointed out during the exhaustive analysis of his… whatever those people are to him. 'A nobody.' You think, still keeping his face in mind, 'Might become useful later.'  
Your gaze slides to the two agents hanging behind, a tall black man wearing a cap and an overall topped by a dark green army jacket. Judging by the dark stain of oil on his calf, he is most likely working in a lab or in this case an armory, that means... 'Sigint, the weapon specialist'.  
To his right stands a woman, pretty and dressed in a skirt and in an army jacket, her hands are quite calloused, proof of her medical experience and training, 'Most likely, Paramedic, Doctor Clark.'

“Well? Does she even speak English, Snake?” You snap back to attention when Snake puts his hand on your shoulder. You turn to him before he directs your gaze to Zero with a jut of his chin and you raise an eyebrow at the old man. “Needed something?”  
His expression becomes pinched, huffy and he says, “Your name.”

You cock your head, amused, “They call me Chupacabra where I'm from.”  
Zero looks back at Snake, “You brought a child soldier with you? Why would you do that?”  
“She's my apprentice from now on.” Big Boss declares, annoyingly placing a hand on the top of your head. You can't find the necessary strength to dislodge it in your current health condition and let it pass. Only once, though.  
It's when he begins to actually pat your hair that you try to swat his hand away, “Stop it!” You say through gritted teeth. He doesn't and you have to bear the rhythmic fall of his hand on your head when Sigint and Paramedic come closer.  
The woman clasps her hand in front of her as she bents to the waist to take a better look at you, “Is it the girl you have been talking about? I thought she'd be taller!”

Your eyes narrow at that, you were one of the tallest in your old unit. But this isn't what catches your attention, a figure on the other side of the field is reclining against the side of a building.  
'Male' You muse, eyes racking over the form for any kind of information you can obtain. 'Suit, blond, white' He is less muscular than Snake but just as fit, slightly smaller frame…  
He is looking towards you, not at you… You can tell he is looking away from you but to who- Your eyes slide to the man standing on your left.  
Does he know Big Boss? You can't tell who he is from this far away but apart from Zero and Sigint, Snake never mentioned another man. Who could he be?  
When you look back to the figure, the man has disappeared and you can't locate him anywhere from where you are.  
Intrigued, you say under your breath, “Who are you?”

As quietly as you uttered those words, Paramedic still heard them. “I just told you, sweety! She really does have a short attention span, Snake. Maybe I should examine her?”

The discussion goes smoothly for the rest and you manage to sneak away when it becomes clear you will get engulfed into the ongoing mingling even though you decide to keep quiet and simply listen. You think about the unknown man eyeing up Snake and consider trying to find him but you know nothing of the base or its residents. It could reveal to be dangerous if you went and explored whilst still being injured.  
So now, you are doing an incredible impression of a sloth as you sprawl face-up on the top of an oil deposit's roof. You don't know if the party left the airport but you find the green light blinking at the tip of the antennae of the control tower more interesting than your mentor's location.  
Your soldiers died, all of them. You have never taken the time to think about them before; Snake had hurried you every step of the way to America, he made his hurry clear when he waited for you to get your wound cleaned.  
You hadn't had the time to grieve the fallen.

The oldest children were around 13 whilst the youngest -Sepulcro you liked to call him along the other soldiers- was reaching 9 soon. He had lost his family to blood-thirsty mercenaries in the South of a Central American country, Nicaragua if you remember correctly. Looking back, did your men really fight for the same reasons you did?  
You frown, a lot of them had preferred to stay at the Sandinista camp when you rounded them up that fateful night some time ago. They didn't want to follow you in this perpetual cycle, kill, ambush, assassinate and repeat.  
It was attacks on important spots like the drug plants or the military camps that demanded your attention, if a militia's location was pointed out, you went there and got rid of it. That is what you did, you fought, showed people what you were capable of and got things done and eventually the children followed you to help you with the realization of your vision.

But still many, at the very beginning when you brought down the first plant by yourself, had told you head on that they had enough and went off to wander in the swamps or into the jungle completely unprepared where eventually they were killed by diseases, famine or by bandits they underestimated.  
They had said they didn't believe in your vision, you wanted revenge against the world, they wanted to kill those who had wronged them personally. They all wanted something different than what you did.

It is now, as Snake's words ring through your mind that you understand. You really did fail.  
God… Gene was right.

“You are afraid.” Your eyes snap open at Snake's voice, quickly sitting to face him and wincing when pain rakes your entire frame. Just realizing you had been tearing up, you bring up a fist to furiously wipe the light tracks of tears on your face as Snake climbs on top of the roof himself.  
“Boss? What are you doing here?” You berate yourself for the shakiness of your tone but he doesn't seem to pay it any heed. You cannot really make out his expression, but his voice and frame are enough evidences of who you are dealing with.  
“I'm not a people person.” He sounds gruff, “And you don't seem to be one either.”  
You actually don't have an answer to that and he comes to sit besides you, legs dangling over the edge as he lights a cigar, his lighter clicks a few times before a flame comes to life.

“You are afraid of what might be the outcome of the fight, what you might regret. You regret the way you lead your soldiers to death, don't you?” He takes a drag of his cigar and his lungs are probably filling with tar at that exact moment, you think. “You praise yourself on saying you are the one who holds the gun, but are you really? I already told you, I will be the one to teach you, I'll be the one to aim and you will simply be the one to fire at my command.”

“… Why?” You ask, “Didn't you say you had your ideals set? That you knew how to honor the Boss? There must be a reason why you want me here.”

“Hm.” He sighs, smoke escaping though his nostrils. “I will tell you when the time is right.” He decides and before you can complain, he adds, “You are not ready, yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also revised!


	3. Ocelots playing as Snakes

It's him. The mysterious man from the first day.

 

With how intensely he looked at Snake, you figured he would show up at one point. Is he enamored with him? It would explain the way he acts around him, but it is clear the feelings aren't returned.

Words hinting at more are left unanswered by your mentor who is focused on your training. Kind actions towards him, as obvious and noticeable they may be, are disregarded.

You may just have learned his identity but you are already aware of his fate. He'll follow Snake, he'll gladly walk into hell for him despite the latter turning his back to him.

 

Is it what awaits you?

 

You cannot find it in yourself to muster any kind of compassion towards Ocelot, however. As bleak his fate may seem, he is not pleasant in the least, all arrogant and pinched around you.

He wears a tight expression, twitchy fingers always hovering above his holsters when you stare up at him and a viciously loaded mouth ready to fire you down.

 

“Doesn't seem like she's learning anything, Snake.” His voice resounds behind you as you take aim with a brand new machine gun. “She has the exact same stance since I last saw her, she's not improving in the least.”

The Boss hums, one of his booted foot sliding between yours to adjust your stance, you comply and descends the gun lower onto your hip. “She is, just a little slower than I expected.”

 

'Slower?' You grit your teeth at the though of deceiving your mentor whilst the wooden humanoid target on the other side of the terrain is being torn apart by the bullets.

“She has a good aim and she absorbs the recoil pretty well.” He puffs out cigar smoke from an almost entirely burnt out cigar and you fish out new ammunition from your poach. “She is good at stealth but she is better suited for full-on battles and no, I won't give her a revolver.”

 

The Russian snorts, giving himself some composure by twirling one of his SAA around, “Thought of a new code name yet? Chupacabra is atrocious.”

 

“This is why it suits me so well.” You respond without looking over your shoulder to face Ocelot, “I have done many 'atrocious' things to obtain it.” You reload the gun, frowning at the slow rate. It has more ammo and a better grip than the previous one but it useless if it is too slow to reload. You'd get killed in a real fight.

“And because you don't anymore,” His tone is rather huffy, sign he wants you to concentrate on the exercise than to eavesdrop. “A new code name would be for the best.”

You should have just turned back to target practice, should have bowed your head down and beheaded the mannequin in front of you but you fully turn back and face him, gun lowered to face the ground.

“No way!” You cry out, puffing under his steely one-eyed glare, “I am not giving it up!” It is the only thing you could keep after your squad's massacre and the only memento he'd allow to remain with you and he'd dare take that away!?

“How could two men whose code names are Naked Snake and Ocelot be allowed to choose one!?”

 

“Chupa...” He growls out, puffing out smoke from his nostrils. He looks like a flaming buffalo, you muse but don't back down at only his repressive tone.

“No! I'm keeping Chupacabra!” You then turn to Ocelot, “What are you even doing here apart from loitering? I've never seen you do anything but lounge and complain. If you don't have anything better to do than disturb my training, that's not my problem! Go find another source of amusement!” You spit out, hissing when he only returns an amused glance.

“Beast got some nerves alright.”

“Why you-!” You are cut off when you roll on your back onto the unforgiving hard ground, the tip of the gun jabbing into your ribs painfully. You grit your teeth when a heavy weight in the form of your Boss's left boot drops down onto your shoulder, pressing hard into the joint.

 

“Shut it.” Big Boss growls out from above you, releasing you from under his shoe to speak to Ocelot, “What should we name her? You don't have a name after all...” He says, crushing the butt of his cigar under his boot.

“What about Heel?” Ocelot proposes, you easily catch his drift and glare at him from your seated position on the ground, the Boss extends a flat palm towards you so you stay down and you oblige, nursing the throbbing spots on your side and shoulder.

 

“Eel?” Snake intones, “Electric Eel?”

“Yeah, how about no?” You kick in with a sarcastic response but a deep glare has you look down whilst the two men discuss.

“What is she even good at?” Ocelot sighs, “I don't see any peculiar talents in her.”

“She's a full-fledged commando and an excellent scout. Although I don't see what code name we could give her.”

“Alligator? Her skin looks just like one's.”

“Quit it.” Snake hums, patting his front pockets in search of a new cigar. Hearing the arrhythmic noise, you wordlessly get one from your poach and get up to insert it between his lips. “Light me up?” He leans towards your smaller frame, cancer stick hanging form between his lips. A small flame flickers to life at the end of your lighter and he is soon blowing toxic smoke your way. He nods in thanks before swinging back to the scowling Russian, “Maybe Chupacabra is the best one so far. We'll think of a new one later. Chupa, practice's over and improve your defense, that was sloppy.”

 

“Yes, Boss.” You obediently salute, purposefully ignoring the spy. “I will see you later, sir.”

“Hm.” He puffs out smoke and you leave towards the building and away from the two men, a skip in your steps.

 

He watches you go, silently, while his mind processes the slight sway of your hips. It was not very noticeable, probably only developing because you were in the midst of puberty. Then, he shifts his eyes back to Big Boss standing next to him.

Slight disgust is the one of the first emotion he feels when he sees Snake's eyes on you, the kid is barely 16, probably 15 and the legend can't keep his eyes off her. He is biting the inside of lip, surely processing your movements as a seductive gesture.

 

If he finds it disturbing, then what will EVA think of this?

 

“I don't know much about her.” Snake says finally, turning around to eye the targets at the end of the shooting range. Most of them are shredded due to the heavy machine gun you had used but the paper figures you had targeted with a smaller riffle bare only holes in the chest and head. He points to one, “She's good, obviously. But I want to know more about her, where did she learn this? How? Who taught her?”

Overcoming his previous disgust, his curiosity peaks out, “Well, according to her current appearance” He empathizes on the word, “she cannot have been born before the mid 50's and whilst her grasp on English is good, it is clear it is not her first language. However, I'm guessing you already knew as much.”

Snake hums an agreement, “I would say around 1955. Gene also said something, about her being manufactured. Was she genetically modified or was she conditioned from a young age?”

“Manufactured?” If he wasn't interested before, he certainly is now.

 

“Are you jealous?” The words make the spy stiffen the slightest bit but he knows Snake caught it.

“Of that _kid_?”

A cold blue eye slides onto him but they stay silent until Ocelot decides to walk away. “I will keep you informed if I find anything, Snake.”


End file.
